monday: fresh eggs from a coworker, the Juno soundtrack, 70 degrees, first night of SAFEchild volunteering.
the reason it doesn’t really matter is because i have this man beside me, behind me, with me. i’ve never learned so much about how to love, and i’ve never been more grateful.
while it certainly can’t be cited as the only reason, this tumblr began over a lesson slowly/never fully learned, a personal vow to grow more, and 18-year-old heartbreak at its finest. four years later, i know i’m wiser and more grounded, but that doesn’t stop me from revisiting the former space. opening new chapters (a marriage) with a person you love is beautiful, but i can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t know the full you. she doesn’t know those you hurt, intentionally or accidentally. and in the chance she does, what have her of it? does it really matter? does love clear the slate?
it doesn’t really matter, there is nothing left for me to say, do, judge. i’m no longer allowed to have an investment.
it’s intriguing how different perspectives can be between the ages, a spectrum of blowing things out of proportion or being sincerely justified. now, this is where the particular chapter at hand closes, and all i do is wish the best, whether its calm seas, treacherous waves, or anything else in between.
“I guess there are lots of ways to get married. Some people marry someone they hardly know – which can work out, too. When you marry your best friend of many years, there should be another name for it. But the thing that surprised me about getting married was the way it altered time. And also the way it added a tenderness that was somehow completely new. To paraphrase the great Willie Nelson: “Ninety percent of the people in the world end up with the wrong person. And that’s what makes the jukebox spin.” Lou’s jukebox spun for love and many other things, too – beauty, pain, history, courage, mystery.”
this remains so beautiful, so selfless, and so hopeful, that I have to reblog myself and many others (and will continue to do so). that we may all find love that makes our jukebox spin, in the most simple, coincidental, and perfect situations.
An anti-government protester uses a Venezuelan flag to protect himself from tear gas in San Cristobal, Venezuela, Feb. 23, 2014. The capital of Tachira State, bordering Colombia, is the site of the some of the fiercest protests against the government of President Nicolas Maduro.
(Photo credit: Meridith Kohut/The New York Times/Redux)
Thursday: revisiting The Weather Station for the 1000th time, having the CEO stop by just to check in and make sure that I’m still good (and even sweetly apologizing for a silly comment about my youthfulness from last week), trivia night for the first time in a long time, a most excellent Carolina win, and later, the promise of you
"i’m your sad boyfriend," he said.
i need to remind him that he’s my boyfriend first, no ands, ifs, buts or labels.
and then, that’s it okay to be sad once in a while. or even for a while. the sadness doesn’t stay forever.
the night trains and the barred owl’s “who cooks for you?” fill my nights with comfort, closeness, while I wait for the next time. it’s almost March, which means i’ve been yours (and you’ve been mine) for over a year. do you remember sitting in the living room watching our first movie together? Or that night before I left for Mexico?
i may have hardly known you then, but no one would have known.